They pounced in unison like backwoods ninjas. Even though I fought it, it was three against one. Gibson and Jameson each grabbed one of my arms and Bowie locked on to my left leg. Jonah was suddenly Mr. Switzerland. He sipped his coffee sheepishly a few feet away from the fray. “Get his leg, Jonah, before he kicks someone in the balls,” Gibson said.
These are grown men
